Monday, October 28, 2013


Category: Adult
Genre: Historical/Regency Romance
Word count: 98,000

Having lost his entire family to a fever, Tristan Moore suddenly finds himself the Duke of Avery at the age of sixteen, and survivors guilt drives him to a dissolute lifestyle.

Physically scarred by her abusive, opium addicted father, Lady Victoria Aldridge is fearful of the touch of any man, and resigns herself to a marriage with Viscount Grentham, the gay son of her father’s best friend.

Tristan and Victoria can’t fight the attraction that sparks whenever they meet, and when they learn Grentham’s father will be the one bedding her to get his heir, Tristan must find a way to put his demons behind him, to save the woman he loves.

Q1: In your MC's voice, what costumed character do you most relate to and why?
Lady Victoria: "I find myself to be a composite of the character Cinderella, as my father had tried to hide me from the ton, and diminish me, and the character Mulan, as I discover my strength and learn to fight for myself, my little sisters and my happiness."

Q2: As an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (unique/marketable)?
My story is different and unique as it isn't simply about bonnets and ballrooms. I hope to help women learn they can rise above their pain and despair to find true love.

First 250:

Hope had yet to be beaten out of eighteen-year-old Lady Victoria Aldridge. She still believed true love floated in the whispers on the dance floors in overcrowded ballrooms of the ton. She dared to dream of her own, prayed- for happily ever after, like the ending of the fairy-tales she read to her sisters when they were younger.

Her hands shaking somewhat, she discreetly tugged at the skirts of her pale pink muslin ball gown, and checked the sweep of her hair over her brow as Viscount Fairley escorted her to the floor for their dance. All through the bowing and curtsying, the intricate steps and the sway
of the music, Victoria needed to believe this man might be the one who could carry her away and save her. Like the stories of old, she held
on to the notion that true love conquered all, no matter how often she’d been disappointed.

Tonight she’d made a special effort, willing herself to accept the viscount’s hands upon her waist and shoulder, to try and enjoy the dancing and not merely suffer the closeness of his body. To simply relax and dance.

Alas, nothing had changed for her.

No matter how brief the contact, when the viscount touched her during the dance moves, even through her satin gloves and his, it took all her strength not to flinch, or pull away. She could shriek with frustration.

How was she to meet a man and fall in love, if she couldn’t bear to have him touch her?

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